


All That I Am or Hope to Be

by Antisocialisme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst before fluff, Draco is a sad bean, Harry and Ron are not two-dimensional asswipes, Hurt/Comfort, Magical war comes with it's own warning, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, People are still going to die, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Slow build Dramione, They have to deal with shit before they can make boom boom, They might be different from canon but still get very much killed dead, Torture, like glacially slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-10 18:17:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antisocialisme/pseuds/Antisocialisme
Summary: Draco does something quite unexpected, even to himself, that could very well change the tide of this frankly absurd conflict.  His choices bear dire consequences that he must face and the path to recovery is arduous, painful, and drenched in a seemingly never-ending war.  The company he now keeps is surprising, but a little understanding seems to go a long way.  He does his best to prove he's not what everyone thinks him to be. This long road to a redemption he might not live to see is one he paved himself with a split-second decision, but will it be worth it in the end?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the Dramione fandom and is mostly an experiment for myself. This is new to me so comments and constructive criticism are welcome. DO NOT BE UGLY. If you can't help but piss on someone rather than be helpful, go elsewhere.  
> The length of the story is as much of a mystery to me as it is you. I know the beginning and the end while doing my best to make middle work.  
> Depending on the reception I get, I'll either continue it or pass the idea to someone else. The story is canon compliant to a point. I've taken creative freedoms with the dialogue already established in the canon scenes, and also pulled magical know-how and there consequences out of my ass to make the story flow. Hopefully, it works  
> The title is a quote from Abraham Lincoln. "All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother."  
> I thought the beginning suited the story perfectly so thanks, Abe, much apreesh my dude. Another thing to note is that I'm painfully American and it tends to haunt me in my writing. Case and point being the above sentence. I'll do my best to make the writing follow a British speech pattern, but would greatly appreciate some pointers. I hope I'm making sense instead of proving how rude and dense we Americans can be. Either way that about wraps it up.
> 
> Now, off you go onto your literary adventure!

* * *

  **He screams.**  

His blood feels acidic as it pumps unforgivingly through him, sweat soaks him from head to toe.

**He thrashes.**

His restraints are paid no mind as his back is forced into an arch in response to this never-ending infliction. 

**He begs.**

" _Please! Make it stop, I can't anymore please!"_

**He cries.**

Tears flood out of wide unseeing eyes, the rivulets blister his face and add literal fuel to this punishing fire.  He's set ablaze inside and out with no solace in sight.  His bones feel chared and black.  He must have turned to cinders by now but on he burns.

 **He screams**.

* * *

 

The tormented squalling vibrates throughout the house, shaking the other occupants to their cores until he is finally silenced once again with a sleeping charm.  Said occupants are spread out in the foyer they arrived in an hour ago, but keep to themselves.  Each one working through their own emotional aftermath of their most recent escapade.  Shock is still prominent alongside disbelief and skepticism amongst the group in various measures. But it's hard to reflect when their focus is pierced by the man upstairs with horrors leaving his lungs every ten minutes.

The distressed wizard is secured to a cot to prevent self-injury with two others remaining vigilant on either side.

The one on the left is a man with a scarred face in a threadbare gray cardigan, elbows on the cot, head in his hands.

The other, noticeably younger but no less drained, is hunched over his arms on his knees with resigned numbness clouding his gaze.

The scarred wizard lets out a great sigh, unsure of what else he could do.  He may have the skills to thwart dark magic, but this...this darkness will not relent easily.  It happened so abruptly.  He'd barely had time to register the fact that Harry and the others were here and  _alive_ when he collapsed and the screams began.

It's been almost an hour with sleeping charms being performed every twenty minutes to keep him subdued, if only briefly.  Forced sleep under these circumstances is a nasty business, so they let it run its course for ten of the twenty minutes.  The pockets of silence occurring between each bout of wailing is discordant and just as nerve-wracking.  They can't keep putting him under for much longer or his brain will turn to goo.

"Remus, please is there anything else we can do?" 

Harry Potter.  The boy who lived doesn't look much like a boy anymore.  Although he was unfortunate to have James stature, there was no denying the age in his face.  Like everyone else, he is battle weary.  A little cut up, a little bruised, and a lot traumatized. 

"I'm sorry Harry but there isn't." Remus does his best to tamper down his despair as those jaded, Lily-like eyes seem to hollow even more. 

_Damn this war._

Harry's response is done so with a conviction Remus feels in his bones and fuels his remaining shreds of hope that Harry can have a future after this.

"It won't end this way for him.  Not after what he's done."

***

Draco trudges a snail's pace behind Wormtail to the drawing room where he's been called.  According to him, the snatchers have caught quite the payload and his aunt has sent Wormtail to bring him.  The reason for his presence is a mystery, but one doesn't refuse aunt Bella if she 'requests' an audience.

With the Malfoy's fall from grace and Draco's inability to complete the Dark Lord's task, he's done his best to keep his head down and mouth shut.  He does what he's told now like a good follower, if only for the sake of his parents. It’s kept him off that lunatic’s radar so far, content as he is to continue tormenting his father.

He keeps his stride slow.  Aunt Bella does not like to be kept waiting.  It’s not much of a rebellion, but it’s something.  Alas, they arrive and he sees his parents and aunt Bella gathered around their new 'guests'.  He has to pull every trick in his arsenal to keep his face unresponsive once he lays eyes on them. 

 _T_ _hey shouldn't be here._  

The know-it-all, the blood-traitor, and The Chosen One himself are at the feet of their captors.

_They shouldn't **be here!**_

“Draco, there you are!  Come here!”

Draco has little time to devote to the repeating thought before aunt Bella wraps her arms across his shoulders and tugs him along.  Her excitement is palpable and sinister, it's gag-inducing.  Nothing good happens when she's this elated.  Trepidation squeezed his heart like a vice, growing tighter with each step forward.  He stands before them and does his best rendition of his father and looks down his nose at them.

“Look, we've caught the Mudblood girl and the blood-traitor!  But this one is a mystery with that mug so tell me poppet is this him, is this Harry Potter!?"

The question is manic and desperate and causes a chill so intense he'd swear a dementor was right on him. 

_So that's why._

Potter is front and center with his head pulled back, face puffy and distorted, but Draco would know his nemesis anywhere.  This should be his moment, Draco’s time to truly revel in his superiority over this half-blood and his friends who dared to deny blood purity and everything he was taught.

He would be praised for his part and possibly bring the Malfoy name back into the Dark Lord's good graces.  But any fantasy Draco ever had about his shining moment turned to ash long ago.  It's like Dumbledore all over again, he can't do it.

The realization makes a current zip through his spine, and he almost loses face when aunt Bella's nails start digging into him.  Panic fills him to the brim faster than one could say quidditch and lingers in his gut.

_Time, he needs time!_

"I can't tell.  It could be but I wouldn't want to be the one to say it is and it not be."

With a snarl, aunt Bella shoves him to the side.

"Throw them in the cells for now!"

They move to do just that when aunt Bella brings them to a halt.

“Hold it, what is  _that_?”

She gawks at the snatcher in question with a sword held loosely in his free hand.

“It’s a right fancy sword they had on 'em when we snatched ‘em up.  I fig’red I’d keep it as a souvenir o’ sorts.”

A look Draco knows well clouds her eyes and makes him shudder.

“Give it to me.”

“Like hell!  I earned this after _that_  chase.” Aunt Bella sneers and makes quick work of the idiot and his colleagues.  They fall dead like flies and she levitates the sword into her possession.

Seeing her drop bodies is a familiar sight, but still makes him feel green.

"Leave the Mudblood, take the others down and send the goblin.”

Before Draco can think to question her she's got Granger on the floor by her hair.

“How did you get this, how did you get in my vault you vermin!? _Answer me, you wretched girl!_ "

Draco does his best to ignore Granger's quivering denials of knowing anything about the sword and continues to assist Wormtail taking their remaining prisoners down low.  He's bought time.  Now he needs a plan. 

Her screams start before they even reach the stairs. 

  

* * *

 

They continue on with the sounds of Granger and aunt Bella echoing all the way.  Draco does his best to maintain his composure and keep pace with Wormtail.

_He's going to vomit._

Wormtail's threat of trussing them up and throwing Crucio at them until they foamed at the mouth keeps the boys subdued during the descent. 

"Goblin, your presence has been requested, now come!"  The goblin rises from his nook in the corner at Wormtail's command. 

"Take him up and keep aunt Bella reigned in.  The girl and Weasley are the keys to Potter, it wouldn't due for her to maim one of our leads to death.  The Dark Lord will surely want to have a crack at them both.  Until then, I’ll see what information the blood-traitor has."  

Wormtail huffs at the order but does as he's told.  Draco's name may not be much anymore but it still holds enough weight as far as rank goes.  Shoving down his nausea, ideas are flash at a lightning pace as Wormtail makes his way back up with his charge.  Floo won't work.  Apparition is possible but tricky.

_Potter’s invisibility cloak sure would come in handy right about now._

He sticks them to the first far left pillar.  The venom Weasley shoots from his eyes almost makes him second-guess what he's attempting to do for a before he disregards it.  He throws up a silencing charm and starts a frantic pace to help him think.

“I'm not telling you a fucking thing Malfoy!"

The outburst from Weasley is expected and he overlooks it as he tries to concoct a way to get them out of this shit show of a situation. 

The disillusionment charm might work but neither Potter nor Weasley have their wands, Wormtail does.  If they're caught they'll be sitting ducks.  Draco would also likely face a grueling punishment for his betrayal at the hands of the Dark Lord himself, his parents would suffer too he's sure.  Granger is another complication altogether.

_Dammit, think!_

"You knew it was me."

He freezes mid-step and he turns heel to look at Potter.  His face still looks like he stuck his head into a beehive, but both eyes are now visible and the absence of animosity in his gaze is unsettling considering their history.  Weasley seems just as shocked and confounded by the accusation as Draco's actions seemed to sink in.   

"Yes." The confession is whispered but resonates around him like a bellow.  It feels like a death sentence and freedom all at once.

“Why?”

Draco contemplates his answer when he realizes Granger’s gone quiet.  Hopefully, aunt Bella took a breather or she's unconscious.

“This needs to end, and _you_ need to end it.”

It's not his most eloquent but it’s the most straightforward and honest he's been about anything in a while.

Weasley scoffs and eyes him with incredulity.

"The bloody hell are you on about? This is what you've always wanted _remember_!  We've already put our trust in a death eater and look at how that turned out for us."

"This isn't what I want."  These confessions keep escaping him and each one causes an equal measure of release and trepidation.

Wesley's face goes purple almost instantly. “Bullshit it isn't!”

There's a pressure building in Draco's head making it hard to think and the adrenaline is making him quake.  Weasley’s not making it any easier.  

"This is exactly what you wanted so don't feed me that line of bullshit!”

The pressure in his head coalesces and pops. "I NEVER WANTED THIS!" 

Blood rushes in his ears as the secret he's kept buried since his sixth year reverberates around him.  He had it pushed it so deep he almost tricked himself that it wasn't there.

He had been proud the day he was given his Mark, and even more so that the Dark Lord chose _him_ to kill Dumbeldore.  He thought it was his time to shine and prove his mettle as a Pureblood and a Malfoy.  It was his turn to show up Potter and shove his victory in all their faces, especially after causing his father’s arrest.  However, with every failed attempt on Dumbledore's life, the realization of what he was ordered to do had settled upon him like a metric ton weight.  Doubt and finally bitter resignation burrowed inside him shortly after. 

By then it wasn't about Potter or even blood purity.  It was about surviving his home being taken over while his father was in Azkaban, putting his mother under the Dark Lord's thumb.  It was either obey or suffer.  He would have done it if that stupid old man hadn't wormed his way into Draco's head.  Hope, he almost forgot what it felt like, rose ever so slightly as his wand lowered.  There was no hate or resentment, only understanding in his eyes.  

Dumbledore was giving him an out.

But he had done his job well with the cabinet and the others came.  His mad aunt cackled and egged him on, saying how it was a proud day to be kin to the man who would strike down Albus Dumbledore.  Her tune quickly changed when Snape had to take matters into his own hands at Draco's hesitation.

The infantile hope building in his chest fell along with the Headmaster.  Aunt Bella revelled in their victory but when they were received by the Dark Lord she was quick to thrust his failure into the limelight.  The Dark Lord was not forgiving.  There was no sympathy or mercy to be found in those ruby eyes.

Only malice and madness.

Draco's thought about his death several times throughout his life, as one does. However, between his father's arrest then Dumblerdore's murder, the idea of it became less abstract as things progressed. 

Strangely, he hadn't thought of it at all when he refused to snitch on Potter, not until now.  He might die if they can't pull this off.  He might die if they do.  Since day one he's had others decide how his life would go.  He's not once been given the courtesy of choosing for himself, only told how he will live by the traditions and _obey._

_Fuck it then._

Yeah, fuck it, he's fine with that.  Let the Malfoy name turn to dust with him if it means Potter can get the hell out of here and save the bloody world.  At least he won't die the coward everyone, including himself, thought him to be.  This is  _his_ choice to live or die by his own actions.  No one decided it for him but himself.

_Guess aunt Bella was right about my spinal growth after all._

The commotion draws the attention of the two others in the hold.  Loony Lovegood peers around a pillar cautious, yet serene as always. 

Old man Ollivander silently skulks his way behind her looking worse for wear. 

"Harry, Ron! Good to see you all things considered." Her chirping voice filled the room like a spoken song.

"Luna, you're alive!"

"Bloody hell Luna, you're dad's a bloody snitch!"

"Ron, really!" He goes red at Harry reprimand whilst Luna's expression falls slightly at the mention of her remaining parent. 

Your saviors of the world ladies and gentlemen, they'll rescue you surely but don't expect any tact from these dunderheads.  Granger's definitely the only reason they aren't doomed by now.

"Yes, this reunion is lovely but we still need to find a way to get you out of here."

He's met with stares of surprise and cynicism in equal measures that are quite merited.  Alright, he's got their attention.  Now he just needs their trust.

_Shiiiit._

* * *

 

Most make the assumption Slytherins only want to gain another's trust so they can use it for there own gain.  Unfortunately, it is an accurate one.  Granger's still at aunt Bella's mercy, they have no plan, and they're on a time crunch.  He's already rubbing his temples and prepares himself like he would for a conversation with a brick wall.

_This is going to be an absolute headache._

If Granger were here they would’ve been gone yesterday.  As much as it rankled Draco, and still does if he’s honest, there's one person that proves that the purity of one's blood is inconsequential to magical ability.  That person is one Hermione Granger, the brains of the golden trio with the magical prowess to back it up.

_Blood purity.  What a fucking joke._

Wait a minute...blood!

“That's it! Potter, you need to call Kreacher right now!”  Potter startles then eyes Draco dubiously.

"How do you know about him?"  They didn't have time for this!

"Sirius left him to you, therefore, you’re his master now command him to get his arse in here!"

"How!"

"Bloody hell Potter, you just speak the command now call him to you right now or I'll hex you!"

"Okay, Jesus! uh k-Kreacher come here right now!" Potter clumsily spits out the order but with gusto all the same. 

Draco dares not breath until the familiar twist of apparition magic fills the air. "You called master Potter?" The house elf is begrudging but here none the less.  "Tell him to take you out of here."

"Are you mad!? He hates us, I wouldn't put it past him to drop us in the ocean drown!"

Kreacher gives Weasley a snarly smile.

"Wait, wait a minute! Kreacher bring Dobby here right now."  At Potter's order, he's gone with a crack, with good timing to boot.  Shadows on the stairs give warning to someone’s impending arrival. 

_Troll shit, time’s up._

"Stay quiet and out of the way."

"Not like we can go anywhere you tosser."

Not paying any mind to Weasly's indignance, Draco sneaks a quick peek up the stairs.  As luck would have it, it's Wormtail returning the goblin. 

_Small mercies I suppose._

He's back in front of them in three quick strides and composes himself in a nonchalant stance, the sweat running down his temple the only outward sign of his nerves.  He strengthens his resolve and waits for them to reach the bottom.  Luna has already sequestered herself and Ollivander back in their corner.

_Merlin’s beard I'm actually going to do this._

His heartbeat is a constant rhythm in his ears, they're halfway down now. 

His wand hand is steady.

They've finally reached the bottom.  Wormtail is occupied spewing vitriol to the goblin as he opens the door.

_He's distracted, good._

Wormtail pulls his leg back to kick the goblin, as he's fond of doing, through the door.  Draco stuns and disarms him in quick succession before he can even get momentum.

 _No turning back now._  

It's a harsh satisfaction having this imbecile at his mercy.  Draco _loathed_ this man if he can even be called such.  He's the one that helped Crouch bring the Dark Lord back to power, and thus started the days of Draco's suffering.He's somewhat grateful for the witnesses to stay his wand and shakes off the itch to Avada Kadavra this wretch.  He ferrets out three wands from the bedraggled robes and returns to Potter and Weasley.

"I'll let you loose, but you keep your wands pointed away from me.  Is that clear?"

Ron's response is immediate and predictable.

"Where do you get off making a demand like that Malfoy and besides, who's to say we decided to trust you anyway?  There's nothing here to convince me that you're anything but another Deatheater trying to play us for fools, just like that greasy git!"

"I'll vouch for him."

* * *

 

Three sets of gaping expressions fall onto Luna, but she carries on like she didn't just offer to speak for the boy whose family is holding her  _prisoner_.

"He's been kind to us."

_She's absolutely barking! How the hell does she believe she's been treated with an ounce of goodwill?!_

_"How!"_ Weasley loudly reflects Draco's inner sentiment and is anxious to hear what Loony Lovegood has to say about his character.

"Food and blankets mostly.  He's provided pain relief potions too.  The others are never so generous, or generous at all really."

_Food, blankets, and potions I can brew in mysleep._

She's willing to vouch for his integrity based on him providing the barest human necessities and comforts.

"The soup is good and warm." Creaks the old man, still huddled in his spot and surprisingly coherent after his ordeal.  Ollivander too, apparently.

A ball of emotion catches in his throat and his eyes sting. 

_This is so fucked up._

Potter and Weasley look at her dubiously but she stares back unflinchingly with that small, tranquil smile.

Apparently, her word is golden with Ollivander backing it up and they relent.

"Alright, fine," Ron says with a huff.

"I still don't trust you, not one bit, but I trust her so you'd better be worth it.  Also, we're not leaving without Hermione!"

"Yes, you are if you if you want to see tomorrow Weasly."

"What, she doesn't deserve saving is that it?  Oh no, can't have a Malfoy name tainted by saving a Muggle-born!  See, this is exactly why I absolutely to refuse to believe he's anything more than what we already knew!"

_Here we go._

This is more like what he was expecting, but it didn't make the sting any less severe.

He fights the need to defend himself and gets right to the point.

''Will you shut up, no one is leaving her! Look, we don't have the time to build any mutual trust here so we're gonna have to just throw caution to the wind on this!  I want him defeated as much as you do, now stow your shit and help me come up with a plan!" Draco's panting and flushed by the end of his rant.

He tries to convey every ounce of sincerity he posses, and hopes for a miracle.

Potter nods once after a brief pause.  Weasley continues to be bull-headed and pinches his lips together, glaring all the while.  However, he's outnumbered three to one and acquiesces with a nod of his own.  At that moment Kreacher and Dobbie make their appearance.  

Draco quickly releases the two-thirds of the Golden Trio and passes out their wands.  He gives the Rat's to Luna with the hope it wouldn't fight her too hard.

"Do you have a safe house to go to?"

"No, but it's not like we'd tell you if we did."

_Damn it!_

Draco rolled his head back in frustration. Two steps back.

* * *

The wretched sting in her arm throbs with every heartbeat and nags at her consciousness.  The chill from the floor and the buzz of conversation pull her further into awareness

"....goblin has to be lying! What would these brats do with a fake Gryffindor sword anyhow!?"

"I don't know Bellatrix, but Griphook did say there was no possible way for them to get into the vault." Narcissa sounds regal and collected compared to her sister's pitched and jerky tone.

_Keep your breathing even, don't give it away._

"It doesn't matter! We'll get what we need out this filth one way or another.  Afterward, the dark lord can have them. Hahaha ahh!"

Hermione forces down the full body shiver that wants to run through her.  The haunting echo of the mad woman's glee up close while her flesh was marred by the other's hatred still rings clear.

What can she do stuck in a room with two dark wizards armed to the teeth and without mercy?  Wait a minute...the boys! What happened to the boys? How long was she unconscious for? Do they know Harry's identity yet?  Her chest almost seizes in unbridled terror when a small comfort comes from the most unlikely source.

"What is taking Draco so long, the boy's face should be recognizable by now!" Lucious practically hisses his words and tears of relief almost let loose. 

They are still alive and Harry hasn't been found out yet.  Good, that's good, Hermione can work with that.  The sound of the cellar door clangs and Draco's cool tone follows not long after to address his father.

"Worry not father its starting to shrink." Make that four dark wizards to contend with.  Now, where is the rat?  "I'm squeezing what I can from the blood-traitor good and proper."

 _No, not Ron.  Malfoy you bastard!_  

"However, there's still something he's hiding. Aunt Bella would you mind assisting, I think he needs your special touch."

_Please, Merlin no, not her.  Don't let her savagery near him, please!_

"Of course poppet! Look at you finally becoming the man you're meant to be.  I knew all you needed to grow a spine was a little patience and proper motivation.  He will be pleased, dove."

Hermione's mental desire goes unfulfilled and her body almost seizes with the need to throw up. Their footfalls echo across the room, then a squeak and slight clash indicating the opening and closing of the cellar door once again. She needs a plan and she needs it fast.  She doubts they'll let her stay 'unconscious' for much longer. 

***

His brow is scrunching and a grimace tugs at his lips.  The sleeping charm is wearing off again.  Remus senses Harry's already tense demeanor go even tighter, and Remus staunchly prepares himself for the wails about to fill the house once more. Draco's eyes snap open the same as before but Remus' braces himself for nothing as he's met with unexpected silence.

He has a brief hope that it's over for now, but the sweating and trembling begins again.

 _No. it can't be that easy_. 

Draco's mouth is clenched tight the veins in his neck straining as he shoves the back of his head into his pillow.  For the first time, he is silent with the exception of the hard panting and the low grinding of his teeth. 

_He's fighting it._

Draco's eyes flash around the room and they stick to Remus, recognition filling them.

"Draco do you know what's happening?"

"Yes."

Its spit between his teeth and a pained 'oomph' leaves right after but he holds fast.

"How can we help you?"

He doesn't answer right away, eyes squinching causing another stream of tears to streak his swollen face.  Remus' hand runs over his own face as more bone-deep weariness kicks in, and digs his thumb and forefinger into his eyes until he sees spots.

"Cut it off."

***

_This is going to work. There's no other option, it's going to work. It has to, It **must.**_

Draco keeps the mantra on a loop in his head as he follows behind aunt Bella, his wand once again in a faux relaxed manner by his side, ready and waiting.  Draco closes the door as she immediately sweeps over to Weasley, whose resumed his spot against the pillar, a horrific joy filling her face.

"Well looky here! looks like I finally get to put you in your _place_ blood-traitor!."

Weasley shows great survival skills by keeping his gob shut.

"Where's the other one!?" 

_Here we go._

"He's on the far end, didn't want them too close, but don't fret. Wormtail is dealing with him.'"

"That's my Draco! smart one aren't you?"  As she turns back to her prey, describing quite graphically the 'fun' she has planned.  Draco almost can't believe it, she's completely clueless.  The old him would've started gloating by now, puffed up chest and all.  He still has to work hard to shove down his old cockiness, though.  This is neither the time nor place.

"Petrificus Totalus" The faintly whispered spell drops her like a sack of sickles mid-taunt.

Weasley immediately bends to extract the wand from her stiff grip. 

Potter, Dobby at his side, emerges from behind a pillar and, like they did with Wormtail, makes quick work of binding and silencing her.

"Dobby now!"

With a pop, the Malfoy's ex-house elf disappears with his aunt in a blink.  She and the rat will be kept somewhere nice and secure to be dealt with later.  Another flash and he returns.

"We must hurry, Kreacher is in position."

"That's all good and well but remember our deal."

Draco's met with the scornful stare from the usually genial house elf.

Ron may have been a piece of work, but his stubbornness couldn't hold a candle to the Malfoy's ex-servant.  It had taken a frantic ten minutes, the solid beginnings of a plan, and Potter begging on his behalf before he relented to agree to help Draco in any context.  All the while making sure that Draco knew with whom his loyalties lie.  It was a pain in the arse but it paid off.

"Of course." The lack of sir is deliberate yet Draco can't bring himself to care.

_Good for him for growing a pair._

His rather crass mental compliment is interrupted.

"Argh!" Potter drops to his knees hand on his forehead.

"He's coming!"

_Shit._

"Hold it together potter we're almost out of this, now focus. How much time do we have?"

"None."

_Troll shit_

Draco yanks him to his feet and clusters them together with Weasley. The others had already been taken, to where he has no idea.

"Dobby, give Kreacher the signal, get Granger then get us the hell out of here!"

Surprisingly Dobbie does what he's told without question.  In their tense cluster, ready to take off, they wait.

_This will work.  It **must.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to keep this short and sweet. Firstly, I want to thank everyone soooo much for giving me support and much needed advice. I'm honestly surprised at how well this has been received and it's given me one hell of a confidence booster.  
> I can't wait to see what you think of this next chapter!

Hermine's luck holds as the remaining two Deatheaters seem content to leave her where she lies, oblivious to her awareness.  She has few options, if any at all.  She's wandless, injured, and so tired that her ruse is close to becoming legitimate.  Wandless magic can be useful but silent casting is a no go without her wand to channel it. 

_Maybe if I'm **really**  quiet. _

It's not the best idea and there's another problem to contend with.  She needs to be able to see them to channel the intent and she has _no_ idea where either one is.  Any footfalls echo, making it impossible to pinpoint them.  If she chances a peek and they notice, she'll be done for.

_Damnit!_

Desperation is making it difficult to keep her body relaxed when the familiar crack of apparition fills the air. Between one breath and the next, she finds herself standing before Ron, Harry, and Malfoy of all people in a huddle.

_Wha-_

The thought doesn't even have time to solidify as she's sucked through space again until she's spat out into a small living room. The rapid apparating has her stomach rolling around unpleasantly.

"Oh thank Merlin!"

"I told you they'd be here."

Hermione faintly registers the familiar voices of Remus and Luna as the events of last few seconds sink into her addled brain.

"What happened?"

It comes out with a quiver as Ron tugs her to the sofa and crouches in front of her.

She quickly takes in her new surroundings to force her mind into focus.

It's a cozy living room with a muted mauve washing the walls.  A loveseat and sofa in matching cream take up the center space across from an unlit fireplace.  Luna is tucked into a window seat at the far left, the sun giving her fairness an ethereal glow.  Harry and Remus have yanked each other into a tight embrace, tears of joy and relief shared between them.  However, she can't process the sight Malfoy leaning against the fireplace.

"What _happened!_?"

"Malfoy got us out."

"What!"

"I know, I thought he'd gone mental! The git strung us up and I was sure he was going to start laying into the torture.  Instead, he took down Pettigrew and..."

Hermione listens with one disbelieving ear as she is too busy blatantly staring at Malfoy. He looks as worn out as the rest of them, hunched shoulders and bloodshot eyes in place of his usually impeccable image.

_Why in God's name would he do such a thing?_

"...gave Kreacher the signal and took he took Malfoys parents somewhere safe.  Dobby then brought us here."

Said house-elf joins them at the sofa.

"Miss Granger I believe this belongs to you."

Dobby pulls something out of the air and hands it out to her.

 _My wand!_  "

"That nasty witch had it on her, I thought you'd like it back."

"Thank you Dobby, you're brilliant!"

His tiny chest puffs up at the praise.

"It was an honor miss."

Ron grins at the exchange but continues looking her over, his eyes going dark at the sight of the slur embedded into her arm.  Shame hits her like a sucker punch and she tries to yank her wrist from his grip.

She feels ugly and dirty.

_Don't look at it._

His hold remains firm but gentle.

"It's alright 'Mione, let me clean it and wrap it up. I'll be quick I prom-"

"Argh! No,  _no, stop it!_   **Stop!** "

Everyone is still on edge and are quick to point their wands at the source of the wretched noise.

Malfoy has collapsed to the floor, writhing and begging as if he were under the Cruciatus. He's pulled up his left sleeve and claws at the exposed Dark Mark until blood surfaces.

Remus and Harry are quick to move, each grasping an arm to prevent further injury. Draco continues to thrash in their grasp, pleading cries on an endless loop.

"Voldemort's doing no doubt, he's using the mark against him."

"Remus, what do we do?"

"I don't know."

"Well, how do we stop it!?"

" _I don't know, Harry!_ "

Remus seems as surprised as everyone else at his loss of composure and guilt immediately casts over his features.

"Put him to sleep."

Luna speaks up from her place at the window, unaffected as ever.

Remus takes the idea and runs with it.  A flick of his wand and Malfoy goes abruptly silent and still.

"Now what?"

Ron asks what everyone’s thinking, the echo of Malfoys cries still ringing in her ears.

***

“What?”

Remus was sure his ears were playing tricks on him, but he's instantly proven wrong.

"Cut...it...off."

Each syllable joined by a mixture of spit and blood, dying lips and clenched teeth a morbid pink. 

_He can't be serious._

Those spheres of light blue have taken on a steeled hue, sharp with hard-fought clarity and resolve.

_He is._

A rush of righteous anger strikes through him, it’s abruptness and intensity making him dizzy. How could he ask such a thing?

_He’s just a **boy**!_

Remus sees Harry shuffle in the corner of his eye.  He's uncurled himself and stands with a stoic expression, seemingly unfazed by the barbaric demand.  It makes Remus' wrath devolve into a quiet shame at the naive thought.  As much as it pains him, it's a disservice to think of them as anything more than fellow soldiers.  Age is just a number in times of war and Remus would do well to remember it.

“Do it now, cut it off!”

Draco’s constitution wavers and dissolves completely, each word rising in pitch as it does so.

"Cut it o _ff, cut it off! **Cut. It. Off!**_ "

“Do it.”

Harry’s tone is grim but firm.

It’s an order if Remus ever did hear one and he, again, curses this ridiculous conflict in which these boys were forced into.  Damn this war! Pushing back his melancholy thoughts, Remus takes a fortifying breath.

“Alright.”

* * *

 

Hermione holds her spot on the sofa, tucked into Ron’s side.  Luna also remains in the window, Griphook and Ollivander taking up the loveseat.  Dobby took off to ensure Kreacher didn’t sniff out any loopholes and assist their prisoners.  The momentary silence lets her thoughts continue to flit between disbelief and confusion.  She can still barley wrap her head around the course of events that brought them here safe and sound.

Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince and poster-boy for Pureblood superiority, saved their lives, and is obviously paying for it in the worst way.

Every time his outbursts cut through the tense silence, Hermione would trembling until it’s over, if only briefly.  The burn in her own arm a sharp reminder of her ordeal at Bellatrix’s mercy, she can only imagine he’s experiencing.

A fresh outburst pulls her from her musings and she squishes herself harder into Ron’s side.  Shortly after it starts anew, quick footfalls descend the stairs to reveal Harry looking quite tense.  He crosses to the center of the room and gathers their attention with one bold sentence.

"We're going remove it."

"What, the Mark? How?"

Ron is dubious as is Hermione.  One doesn’t simply remove a Dark Mark, it’s permanent.  So permanent in fact, records have shown vague imprints of it on the very bones of deceased Deatheaters.

"His arm."

Ron's eyes grow to the size of dinner plates and Hermione feels her face go numb and her stomach sour.

"Are you taking the piss right now?"

"He asked us to, and I agree.  He can't take much more before he either loses his mind or his heart gives out."

"Bloody hell!"

Harry rubs at his face with both hands and inhales deeply as if bracing himself.

"Remus is going to need help.  I know shit about medical magic, let alone anything this intense.  We’ve got three minutes before Remus can start, he can’t do it with him awake.  While we wait I’m open to volunteers.”

Luna immediately offers her assistance, surprising almost no one.

“My mother helped during the first war as a field medic.  She has a detailed journal about the wounds she treated that I’ve memorized quite well.  There was a surprising amount of amputations performed, among other things.”

“Fantastic, anyone else!”

The goblin speaks up from his spot on the loveseat.

“Why are you doing this Mr. Potter? I understand that Mr. Malfoy helped us a great deal, but what do you get by helping a known Deatheater.”

Harry seems lost for words but Griphook isn’t cruel in his inquiry, merely curious. Hermione can’t help but wonder herself as to why he’d be willing to do this.

“He saved our lives and he’s paying the price, the least we can do is return the favor.”

“Is that all? What if he should turn against you afterward?”

“I’d like to give him the chance to prove you wrong if it’s all the same to you.”

His voice is unrelenting.

Hermione has choke back the emotions clogging her throat as tears spring to her eyes.

_So that’s how it is._

Harry’s greatest strength has always been the size of his heart, despite everything he's been through.  It’s also his greatest weakness.  Hermione can only pray it’s steering him straight and true right now. 

Griphook gives Harry a long once over with shiny black eyes.

“You make friends with house-elves and you’re willing to save the life of your enemy.  You’re a strange wizard aren’t you boy?”

The question is obviously rhetorical and ends on a small grin.  Harry simply shrugs, having said all he wanted to.

“I’ll help too.”

The words are out of Hermione’s mouth before she even realizes they’re forming.

“You sure about that ‘Mione? It’s alright if you want to sit this one out and rest.”

_Not at all._

“No, but Harry’s right.  It _is_ the least we can do after what he did for us.”

“Alright, well I’ll stay down here. I can barely stomach hearing him, let alone see his bloody arm get chopped off.”

Ron takes on a green tinge at the mere mention of it and Hermione can only agree that it’s best he stay away.

“I’ll poke around to see what food I can scrounge up while you all play mediwizard.  Harry, would you mind giving me a hand?”

“Sure.”

It’s barely out of his mouth before Draco’s cries suddenly cease once more and Remus shouts from the top of the stairs.

“Harry, I need those extra hands _now_!”

“Right, well, off you go.”

With that Harry joins Ron in the kitchen and Hermione is following Luna’s glide up the stairs to meet a harassed looking Remus.

“We’ve got eight minutes or less to get this done, we need to be fast.  What do you either of you know about medical magic?"

The sight of Draco sends a sharp jolt through her insides and strikes her dumb. The once proud Malfoy heir is a sweaty, malnourished mess strapped down with thick leather binds.  A deep red flush runs from his face to his chest, eyes noticeably swollen even with them shut.

Luna is not so affected.

“The spells used for this are simple but delicate and need strong focus. The blood staying spell is particularly tricky as it keeps the blood of the exposed area inside the body, then circulates it to the remaining tissue to keep it healthy.  Right now we need to decide where to amputate, and who does what.”

“I’ll handle that last bit if you’ll cast the staying spell since you’re familiar with it. Hermione, I need you to keep an eye on his vitals, pay close attention to his heart.  It will let us know immediately if he starts waking up."

Remus is quick to delegate their tasks, already prepping Malfoy for ‘surgery’.

She chokes down bile at very real possibility of him coming to at some point during this. Her vivid imagination puts her in his position and what it would be like to wake up and find a group of people taking apart of you away.

“We’re ready.  Hermione, if you please.”

With a deep breath to settle her nerves, Hermione pulls up Malfoy’s vitals and prays that she won’t pass out.

_Don’t wake up, don’t wake up, **please** don’t wake up._

* * *

 

The void is vast and he feels warm and untethered, there is no burning to be felt here.  No pain or fear, just peace in this endless nothing.

_Dead?_

Consciousness comes slowly and disproves the thought as he registers lying on something soft, his body covered to his neck with a thin blanket that’s even softer.

_What is this?_

His thoughts feel too slow and clumsy.  It’s reminiscent of the time father snuck him a little too much firewhiskey on his thirteenth birthday behind mother’s back.  His eyes feel raw and weighted down but he fights them open and attempts to pull his mind to focus.

Sunlight pours in from a window that takes up a majority of the right wall, giving him ample lighting to take in his surroundings. 

He’s lying on a cot facing a white door in the center of a room with soft robin’s egg blue walls and light hardwood floor. The room has little to offer in terms of furniture or decoration.  A bookshelf stuffed to capacity takes up the left wall.  A chair and a tiny table with a glass jug of water and a cup upon it take up his right bedside.

The sight of the water jug makes him sharply aware of his throat, blistered feeling and dry as a desert.  As he tries to sit up a bruising ache in his stomach and back makes him pause.  He feels like he had a row with a bludger, and the bludger came out the victor.

On the next try, he breathes through it, ignoring the light spasms that flutter across his body.  As he does so the sense that something is off nags at him.  His instincts are proven correct when he frees his torso from the covers.  His left arm is wrapped with a pristine white bandage that does nothing to hide that a majority of it is _missing_. 

It’s then the memories of his actions at the manor and the subsequent punishment for his betrayal flash through his mind.  His memories of the dark mark incinerating his insides are hazy and unpleasant, but he remembers enough.  He remembers falling to the floor, jerking uncontrollably and scratching at the source of his torment.  Then a sweeping darkness that kept him trapped in his mind, the Mark punishing him still.

Light would briefly make an appearance, vague images of Potter and Lupin coming through.  Draco doesn't remember how many times he suffered the morbid pattern until nothing but sheer willpower had him clinging to clarity in the light for the briefest of moments, and demand his ex-DADA professor to cut off his arm.  The man seemed to balk at the suggestion.

Draco almost lost himself once more until Lupin grasped his face, his iron grip grounding as he told Draco they would take care of it.  It felt like another eternity passed until they blessedly put him under again to rid him of the cursed limb. 

_It’s gone. It’s actually **gone**._

Now that the pain is no longer clouding his judgment, the reality of what had to be done sinks like a rock in his stomach.  His shock gives way to growing disgust as he gently tugs at the bandage to reveal the aftermath.  It’s difficult to see completely as it at the elbow, but enough of the wound is visible to make him grimace.

The flesh is pinched together at the tip of his elbow, black stitches hold it closed in a grotesque bundle of flesh and string.  It tugs slightly as he twists his remaining limb to see it from all angles, but there’s no pain.  The jostle of the doorknob turns his attention from his mutilated stump. 

Ron Weasley, of all people, steps gingerly into the room, unaware that its occupant is awake.  He closes the door with a soft click.  The sight of Draco, conscious and sitting up makes him jolt in surprise before his eyes shift around the room in obvious discomfort.

“Um.”

He continues to awkwardly shuffle, seemingly unable to figure out what to say.

To be fair, it must be disconcerting to see his enemy do a complete one-eighty and risk everything, then witness said enemy come to terms with the consequences.

Draco is at a loss for words himself, his emotions have turned into a veritable whirlwind.  His arm is gone but so is the mark.  That atrocity that’s haunted him and caused endless grief no longer taints him.

_But now I'm a bloody **cripple**._

It’s an ugly, bitter thought.

Draco’s always had two things in abundance; money and his looks.

His family fortune has likely been pissed away on the war and now he’s a _gimp_.

_How the mighty has fallen._

“Do you remember anything?”

The sudden question drags him out of his self-deprecating thoughts.

He goes to answer but his tongue sticks in his mouth, and he’s reminded of why he arose in the first place.  Weasley is surprisingly fast on the uptake and rushes to the water jug at Draco's side.  He pours a small amount and hands it out for him to take.  The glass is cool to the touch and the water tastes like nirvana as it soothes his sore throat.

“The manor, coming here, then little but pain after that.”

His voice sounds raspy and abused despite the hydration.

Weasley bobs his head with another awkward shift.

“It’s been a full day since we got here, we’ve been taking turns checking in on you.”

Draco’s about to ask about the others and what’s happened since he’s been under but Weasley speaks again.

“Look, I’m sure you have questions but I’m still working out how to feel about all this.  I'm only in here because it was my turn to be.  I get that you helped save our arses, I mean I appreciate it, but it’s a bit much to take in.  I don’t know if I trust you completely, or at all yet.”

Draco’s inwardly stunned.  It’s no surprise Weasley doesn’t trust him by any stretch, but he is taken aback at the unexpected maturity and honesty, and he finds he’s deeply grateful for it.

Weasley is being undeservedly decent considering their history and circumstances.

It has a long-forgotten feeling blooming in his chest.

Draco's already took the first step towards a far different path the moment he didn't give Potter up.  He supposes the next part of his new-found journey means proving, if only to himself, that he can break away from a prejudice upbringing that he no longer puts any value in, and all of its expectations.  It's an exhilarating, but no less terrifying, idea that _he_ gets to choose how his life plays out from here. 

So, with a fragile hope budding in his heart, Draco keeps his response short and honest.

“That’s fair.”

The tension in Ron’s shoulders releases as if he was expecting Draco’s usual snarky attitude.

_Baby steps._

“Alright."

He's at the and he turns back around, hand twisting the knob.

"I’ll send Remus up, he’ll be able to tell more than I can anyway.”

Then he's out the door, leaving Draco with thoughts of self-redemption and what his future could be if he makes it out of this war alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGGING DILEMMA:  
> I feel like if I tag everything, good or bad, that the mystery and suspense is ruined. On the other hand, I also don't want to cause anyone undue distress. If anyone has some advice on that front I'll adore you forever and ever, amen.


	3. Chapter 3

Hunger pulls her from slumber, exhaustion still prominent.

Last night had been _rough_.

Dreams of botched magical surgeries and Bellatrix had harassed her on a constant loop.

After the third time she had shot up with a choked sob, Luna had risen from the loveseat, only to push it against the sofa so they'd faced each other.

"Company can sometimes help, I'll be right here for the next one."

Hermione didn't argue against it, though she felt sheepish and childish.  Luna never asked about the dreams or if she was alright.  Instead, she would pull trembling hands into her own and just talk; the Quibbler and her future plans for it, her parents, what she would be like as a gnome.  Her sweet voice and sometimes nonsensical words soothed her back to sleep each time.  The pattern had continued throughout the night until she blessedly fell into a dreamless sleep.

Until now apparently as her stomach continues to vibrate in demand of sustenance

She digs deep to find the energy to open her eyes and sits up with a deep groan.

"Well good afternoon sleepy head."

It comes from the kitchen where Remus seems to be putting together a tray of food, the only other person present aside from her.

_Afternoon? That explains why I'm so hungry._

"Good afternoon.  Where is everyone?"

"They're down at the beach, Griphook and Draco being the exception of course.  Goblin's are allergic to fun it seems and Draco has just arrisen."

The news of Draco makes her appetite vanish.

"He's awake? When? How is he?"

Remus pauses her interrogation with hands on her shoulders.

"Hermione, please relax for I know as much as you do as I haven't gone up to see him yet"

Hermione is instantly chagrined at verbally barraging the poor man, but he seems amused, so relaxes as he suggested.

"Ron notified me about ten minutes ago.  According to him, Draco's sitting up and talking just fine, even undressed his wound."

"Ron talked to him, what happened!?"

Both have terrible tempers and Malfoy waking up to find himself a limb short, only to be faced with Ronald reeked of disaster.

"Nothing, as far as I know.  He just came down to let me know and asked if I would handle it from here."

Remus shrugs as he says it, continuing to prepare the tea for the tray that can only be for Malfoy.

Hermione almost can't believe it.

_They didn't try to kill each other!?_

"Ron joined the others outside soon after and here we are.  You should go join them, get some fresh air."

She considers it before deciding that it sounded lovely, after breakfast of course.  However, she can't help but seek more answers before doing so.

"Where are we?"

"Off the southern coast of Ireland.  Tonk's father had a muggle friend that owned this house as a vacation spot and left it to him when he passed, as he had no children or living relatives.  Tonks and I prepared it when we discovered she was pregnant, so she'd have a safe place when the time comes.  Andromeda was the only other who knew about this place until now."

At the mention of his wife and unborn child Remus takes on a solemn air and Hermione can't help herself.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know three days ago we were with Arthur and Kingsley on reconnaissance when snatchers got the drop on us, same as you from what I've been told.  We got separated during the chaos and our rendezvous was compromised so, I went on the run.  Imagine my surprise when Dobby came out of nowhere to ask for my help to hide Harry Potter.  I figured this would be the perfect spot and honestly thought she'd be here."

He voice is even but worry is evident in the lines of his shoulders.

It makes mild self-loathing creep through her.

_You really have to know everything, don't you?  Now look at what you've done._

Remus must sense her guilt and is quick to appease her.

"It's quite alright I'm sure she's safe as houses with the others.  Besides, once we get Draco settled I'll ask if Dobby can track her and the others down."

His confidence is cleary forced and has her sending mental prayers that, for his sake, Tonk's is alive and well.

* * *

Lupin enters the room, a tray in hand.

"Good afternoon, I brought this incase you felt up to eating."

His stomach makes an embarrassingly loud gurgle at the mention of food, a sudden gnawing hunger clenching his stomach.  Lupin has the good graces to pretend he didn't hear it and simply lays the tray across Draco's lap.  A small bowl of stew is accompanied by a cup of tea, sugar and cream at the ready to fix it to his liking.

"It's quite good, I promise."

The timber of his voice is quiet and somber, yet soothing.

He takes up the bedside chair, crossing his legs and folding his arms.  Remus Lupin makes a striking contrast to Greyback, a fellow werewolf and avid follower of the Dark Lord.  The large and sinister werewolf is similar to aunt Bella in personality, vicious and bat-shit insane.

It's baffling to witness someone with the same affliction seem so benevolent, treat Draco with the simple kindness of food should he be hungry.

Draco feels his throat go tight.

_I don't deserve this but I'm working on it.  That must count for something._

"Do you want to eat first or talk?"

Draco answers by picking up his spoon.

If he opens his mouth he'll probably cry, which his already damaged ego can't handle.

"Alright then, how about I talk while you eat and if you have any questions I'll answer them the best I can?"

Draco nods his approval and begins eating, noting how off balance his body feels at the simple task.

 _That'll take some getting used to._   

"I think I'll start with the hippogriff in the room, your arm."

Lupin waits obviously expecting a reaction, but Draco just continues to spoon the surprisingly rich potato stew into his mouth, and carries on.

"The procedure took a little over half an hour, start to finish.  When the initial removal was almost complete your blood pressure dropped dangerously low.  The shared theory is that it was a reaction of the Mark no longer affecting you as harshly once the bone was severed, and your blood pressure tried to level out, but did so too fast.  You started to crash and in the end we had to restart your heart twice, not surprising considering the stress it underwent."

The last part makes him freeze mid-bite, and gapes at Remus in horror at the revelation.

_I died!? No, I died **twice!?**_

Lupin respectfully gives Draco time to make peace with the frightful thought.

It takes Draco several minutes to breathe through the panic that sweeps over him.

_I'm alive, I'm okay. I'm **alive.**_

Once Draco collects himself and starts sprucing up his tea the way he likes, Lupin resumes.

"Hermione was quick on her feet when things turned south. She steadied your blood pressure and gave your heart a jolt both times."

"Granger was there?"

"Yes, her and Luna were both here to provide assistance.  I couldn't very well have done it by myself, in fact, it was Luna who knew how to do it properly.  You should really thank her when you get the chance.  If it weren't for her you'd be a lot worse off.

_How about that, saved by the nutter and the Mud-Muggle-born. Dammit._

He may not put stock in blood-purity anymore, but old habits seem to die hard.

"Eventually, your vitals evened out and then Luna stitched you up.  Harry, Ron, and I have been taking shifts to keep an eye on you just in case"

The lonely chair Lupin resides in makes a lot more sense.

"We'll start working on regeneration once you're stronger"

Draco's head snaps up but a quick hand wave stamps down any eagerness.

"There's no guarantee that it will work."

"What do you mean, why?" 

"The Mark is some of the darkest magic in the world, Draco.  You have to understand that it's a bloody miracle that the magic didn't spread or outright kill you, or even us when we tampered with it.

_It did kill me._

"I'm aware of  _exactly_ how dark that magic is, so dont act like I don't know first hand!"

He doesn't mean to yell, he really doesn't. But he's just. so. _angry._

And like that, the building storm of emotions he has no idea how to deal with ruptures.

"The audacity you have talk at me about how evil that thing is makes me sick, like you have the first fucking clue about it!  You have no _idea_ how it was, to feel like a dog on a chain, crawling to it's master when called, tail between its legs, not one damn clue!"

He's sweating and panting by the end, the heat in his cheeks a sign his face is likely flushed to bright red.

Fury soon gives way to mortification and regret. Lupin may not know the Mark as intimately as Draco does, but his lycanthropy is as good as any chain.  He knows very well what it's like to not feel in control.

_You're doing a great job showing you've turned a new leaf you prat._

To his surprise, Lupin's relaxed persona never wavers in the face of Draco's rant.  If anything he seemed to expect it and makes more guilt tear at him.

"I'm sorry."

It's weakly whispered but no less sincere. 

It's Draco's first ever real apology and a new floodgate of emotions has him hunching over his tray in an attempt to hide the tears in his eyes, and watches them fall into his half-empty bowl.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so _sorry_."

Each shame-fueled apology is a choked whisper.

"Draco, look at me."

Cool hands gently encourages his gaze upward until their eyes meet. The understanding twinkle in his eyes bears a stark resemblance to the same one Dumbledore had. 

Draco just shatters apart under it.

Horrendous gutterral sobs come pouring out.

Who new guilt could physically hurt?

He's so immersed in his feelings that he doesn't notice the hands have left his face, until it's suddenly pressed against a firm chest.

"It's alright, you're alright just let it go."

Draco does, Lupin holding tight and gently rocking him to and fro.

* * *

 He doesn't know how long he cried for, but by the end he's utterly exhausted and embarrassed.  So embarrassed that the urge to lash out rips through him.  He stamps it down as he settles back against the wall, and Lup-

_Remus his, name is Remus._

He just spent Merlin knows how long snotting all over the man, the least he could do is give him the courtesy of referring to him by his name.

Draco's eyes suddenly squint and he tries an experiment.

_Harry._

Nope, not happening, _fail_.  

He feels wrong even thinking, starkly aware of the bad blood still between them despite everything that's happened.

Therefor, Potter he shall remain.

As Draco mentally satisfies his curiosity, Remus returns to the chair to continue their previous discussion as if Draco didn't just have a complete meltdown. 

"Magic of this caliber can leave traces behind, a residue if you will, that could prevent the possibility.  A prime example of this being Alastor Moody.  He lost his leg as a result of dark magic and he never recovered it."

"Then what makes you think I can?"

"We all have our theories, but the main one is the intent behind what we did"

"What the hell does that even mean? What does intent have to do with anything!?"

"What do you think separates dark magic from light?"

It feels condescending and his temper rises again at what he feels to be a rather idiotic query.

"Are you daft? Dark magic causes harm and light does the opposite, everyone knows that!"

"When I cut your arm off, causing you physical harm, was I doing it to hurt you, or save you?"

This leaves Draco speechless, anger vanishing into thin air and leaving astonishment in it's place.

"The answer is _intent_.  People tend to think of magic as just light and dark, good and evil, but it's not that simple.  Really magic is neither, it just is.  How we use it, and our intentions behind it, is what turns it into what we perceive as dark and light, with all manners of grey in between.

Draco takes this new perspective on magic and ruminates.

_It makes sense, I guess, but now what?_

"What does that mean for me then?

"It means it's possible that our intent was enough and you can make a full recovery.  If not then I'm afraid..."

"I'll be like this for the rest of my days.  Hurrah."

_Can't be too upset, I did choose this and their is the  slim chance it'll grow back._

"How would we do this?"

"Not easily I'm afraid.  We'll have to reopen the area then provide you with Skelegrow among other things to regenerate the tissue."

None of it sounds appealing, but the mention of Skelegrow has nausea bubbling at a phantom taste of the wretched stuff. 

He was nine and fighting with the house-elf about putting his shoes on, not wanting to go visit his weird and obnoxious cousin.  He didn't _want_ to go!  So much so, that his magic took it upon itself to make the bones in his feet disappear.  It had been  _awful_  and only made better by his mother.She stayed at his side the whole time, running her fingers through his hair and telling him stories as his feet regrew.

The memory makes him miss mother fiercely, hoping she was alright wherever she was.

_Father can bloody well rot._

Remus continues, pulling him out of his thoughts of shitty fathers.

"We'll need to wait a few days though.  You're malnourished and your body has been through quite an ordeal.

_No bloody joke._

His bladder takes this time to make him aware of his human needs.  It makes him blush, but he asks all the same.

"Is there a lavatory?"

"Oh, of course! Lucky for you there's one up here at the end of the hall to your right."

He awkwardly frees himself from the covers, thankful for Remus not offering assistance.   His feet meet the floor, warmed by the sunlight,  and braces himself.  He stands up but immediately goes back down with a thump, the now uneven weight distribution of his body throwing off his equilibrium.

"Careful, your body is going to feel off kilter with the uneven weight."

Draco breathes through the desire to snap at the man and fight back his embarrassment.

_He's just trying to help,  Now, come on you can do this.  As mother always said during home lessons, patience is key._

He tries again, slowly.

He makes it all the way but doesn't attempt to walk, instead taking in the new sensations.  He wasn't kidding about feeling off balance.  He's standing perfectly straight but feels like he's leaning to his right, so he shifts his weight ever so slightly to his left to see if it helps.  It feels like it's working so he rolls his shoulders in preparation

His first steps are clumsy and he wobbles back and forth with his remaining arm doing it's best imitation of a windmill.

He must make quite a sight

_Someone should've bloody told me losing an arm would regress me back to toddlerhood._

Remus remains close by without interfering as Draco gets his bearings and Draco finally swallows his pride.

"I need help, maybe to the wall so I can lean against it?"

The other man smartly keeps his mouth shut and lets Draco grasp his hand and help hobble to the wall.

The combination of his bladder and stubbornness allows him to get used to his new gait.  At least enough to make it to the bathroom and back without falling on his face.  He'd quite like to keep what little remains of his dignity in tact thank you.


End file.
